Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 23, 2024

From Harmony this universal frame began*

Boethius playing the monochord
Anonymous,
Cambridge, University Library
Public Domain
Link

“Pythagoras and his followers devoted a great deal of attention to acoustical and musical phenomena. They regarded consonances—especially of a fourth, fifth, and octave—as models of that harmony, conceived of as an accord or equilibrium of different elements, which they equated with the human soul or with the ordering principle of the universe. The assignment of the numerical ratios that are at the basis of musical concordances was for the Pythagoreans the starting point for discovering the laws which governed both the feelings of the soul and the movements of the universe. They arrived at these results experimentally, through the monochord, whose invention was attributed to Pythagoras himself.”

 ~Music in Greek and Roman Culture, by Giovanni Comotti (tr. Rosaria V. Munson)


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*I just realized I’ve never shared John Dryden’s “Song for St. Cecilia’s Day” here, which is a horrible oversight. Do read it—it’s so beautiful and fairly sums up the medieval understanding of how the order of the entire cosmos is a musical relationship.

Friday, January 26, 2024

Spoilers!

Canterbury Tales Prologue
ca. 1400-1410, mssEL 26 C 9, Huntington Digital Library
 Last spring I had planned to take a class on Chaucer at my local college but that didn't work out for a number of reasons. To soothe my disappointment I've been reading some of his poetry as well as various things about Chaucer and his poetry. Today I was listening to a lecture by Seth Lerer and he mentioned something I've never heard before about medieval reading habits. He said that people used to pick up a book they were about to read with the left hand, then open the back cover with the right hand and read the last few lines there. Then they'd flip to the front of the book and start reading from the beginning.

In an age when a large part of story-telling was retelling older stories, no one worried about spoilers. Homer and Virgil both begin their epics by telling the reader how the story is going to end. 

Knowing this habit, medieval authors were fairly deliberate about the final lines of their stories, which makes for some interesting features. The last lines of The Canterbury Tales are this inscription:

HERE IS ENDED THE BOOK OF THE TALES OF CAUNTERBURY
COMPILED BY GEFFREY CHAUCER,
OF WHOS SOULE JHESU CRIST HAVE MERCY,
AMEN.

The reader would then flip to the front and begin reading the Prologue.

Curious, I flipped through some of my older books to remind myself how they ended. Most of them let you know what kind of story you'll be reading, whether it has a happy or sad ending. A few allude to the beginning of the story.

One that caught my attention was the ending of Ludovico Ariosto's Orlando Furioso:

And lifting his victorious hand on hie,
   In that Turks face he stabd his dagger twise
   Up to the hilts, and quickly made him die,
   And rid himselfe of trouble in a trice:
   Downe to the lake, where damned ghosts do lie,
   Sunke his disdainfull soule, now cold as Ise,
   Blaspheming as it went, and cursing lowd,
   That was on earth so loftie and so proud.
(tr. Sir John Harington)

This is almost exactly the way The Aeneid ends:

In the same breath, blazing with wrath he plants
his iron sword hilt-deep in his enemy's heart.
Turnus' limbs went limp in the chill of death.
His life breath fled with a groan of outrage
down to the shades below.
(tr. Robert Fagles)

Which brings me back to my earlier point about there being no spoilers in ancient and medieval literature. 

And even if a reader didn't look at the end before beginning, each book of Orlando Furioso opens with an "Argument," a few lines that tell the reader what will happen in that book.

Monday, December 4, 2023

Grammar speaks

 "I have four parts: letters, literature, the man of letters, and literary style. Letters are what I teach, literature is I who teach, the man of letters is the person whom I have taught, and literary style is the skill of a person whom I form. I claim to speak also about the nature and practice of poetry. Nature is that from which speech is formed. Practice occurs when we put that material into use. To these we add the matter, so as to know what we must talk about. Speech itself is taught in three steps; that is, from letters [i.e. phonemes, the basic units of sound in a particular language], syllables, and words."
~Grammar, explaining her profession and field of study in The Marriage of Philology and Mercury, by Martianus Capella (fl. A.D. 410-420)


Wednesday, March 1, 2023

Recommended editions of Spenser’s Faerie Queene

This is the third post in a series.

 

Some of the editions I recommend below come with scholarly essays, but the important thing to keep in mind is what C.S. Lewis says about reading it in his chapter on Edmund Spenser in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature. He says that while reading commentaries can be helpful, they demand a certain kind of mindset that’s the opposite of the way we need to approach the poem itself.

Its primary appeal is to the most naïve and innocent tastes…. It demands of us a child’s love of marvels and dread of bogies, a boy’s thirst for adventures, a young man’s passion for physical beauty. If you have lost or cannot re-arouse these attitudes, all the commentaries, all your scholarship about “the Renaissance” or “Platonism” or Elizabeth’s Irish policy, will not avail. The poem is a great palace, but the door into it is so low that you must stoop to go in. No prig can be a Spenserian. It is of course much more than a fairy-tale, but unless we can enjoy it as a fairy-tale first of all, we shall not really care for it (132-3).

Audio

I haven’t mentioned this before, but another great way to experience The Faerie Queene is to let someone else read it to you. I highly recommend two versions:



Print

Free:

The Faerie Queene at Luminarium
This is the complete text in an easily navigable format. The drawbacks are that it has all the original spellings, and there are no notes on difficult words. Includes the letter to Raleigh and the commendatory verses and sonnets.



Low cost:

The single-volume Penguin Classics edition edited by Thomas Roche is the one I use when I’m reading aloud. It does not have the footnotes and marginal notes that I find distracting, but the margins are wide enough for me to add the notes that I do need.

  • All spellings are original, which includes many instances of swapping V and U, using I instead of J, and swapping I and Y. Examples: Vna for Una, Sansioy for Sansjoy, Ioue for Jove, Yuory for Ivory.
  • Includes all the commendatory verses, dedicatory sonnets, and Spenser’s letter to Raleigh explaining his plan when writing the story.
  • No footnotes.
  • Endnotes are fairly minimal, defining unfamiliar words and giving some Biblical, Classical, and literary explanation of Spenser’s allusions.
  • Textual notes in an appendix. This is a section that tells all the variants in different manuscripts and how they’ve been reconciled in the text of the poem.
  • Helpful glossary of common words.
  • No essays or study guides.



Moderately priced:

The Routledge Press edition, edited by A.C. Hamilton, who is a respected and reliable Spenser scholar. This large, single-volume edition includes a general introduction which is very helpful to the reader who’s just getting started in Spenser scholarship.

  • Original spellings as described above.
  • Includes all commendatory verses, dedicatory sonnets, and the letter to Raleigh.
  • Extensive footnotes defining archaic words and explaining Spenser’s allusions.
  • Textual notes in the back.
  • Character list, including brief descriptions and where they first appear in the story.
  • Extensive and valuable bibliography.
  • Chronology of Spenser’s life and work.


 The Hackett Classics edition in five volumes (Book 1, Book 2, Books 3 and 4, Book 5, Book 6 and the Mutability Cantos), various editors. Each volume has its own introduction, which is not always sympathetic to the work, depending on the editor—some are pretty good, some are downright awful, so this edition is best for the reader who isn’t especially interested in those extra essays.

  • Slightly updated spellings: uses of U, V, I, J, and Y are all regularized and some words use standard modern spellings to avoid confusion, e.g. “bee” updated to “be” because it’s the verb, not the insect.
  • Includes letter to Raleigh, but commendatory verses and dedicatory sonnets are missing.
  • Footnotes are minimal and generally helpful, defining difficult words and giving brief explanations of the allusions. When dealing with more “adult” allusions in the text, these notes tend to be more explicit than the notes in either Penguin or Hamilton.
  • Textual notes in the back.
  • Glossary of most commonly used difficult words.
  • Index of characters.
  • Bibliography.



Expensive, and out of print, but glorious if you can afford them:

The Folio edition, with illustrations by Walter Crane.

  • Walter Crane’s enchanting illustrations and the excellent physical quality of the book are the main reasons for owning this one.
  • Very slightly updated spellings (they’ve modernized the usage of I/J and U/V), but otherwise original. 
  • No notes or essays.


The Variorum Complete Works of Edmund Spenser, in eleven volumes, ed. Erwin Greenlaw, Charles Grosvenor Osgood, and Frederick Morgan Padelford, 1932. The first six volumes contain all the books of The Faerie Queene. The remaining five are all of Spenser’s prose and poetic works, a Life of Edmund Spenser by Alexander Judson, and an index to the poetry.

  • The main attraction of this one is all the scholarly commentary. I mean ALL the scholarly commentary. It contains everything in every language (untranslated) that was available when it was published.
  • Original spellings.
  • Includes all commendatory verses, dedicatory sonnets, and the letter to Raleigh.
  • No footnotes.
  • Extensive endnotes explaining literary allusions, historical background, the allegory, the roles of certain major characters, and more. Each volume has one book of the Faerie Queene that takes up about a third of the volume. The other two-thirds is commentary.
  • Ideal for the uber-nerd like me who wants all the commentaries!
  • Have I mentioned all the commentaries?




Of interest:

Oxford edition, published 1909, edited by J. C. Smith. This is meant to be an authoritative text, so it contains all original spellings. The introduction gives some historical background on the publication and revisions of the poem and explains the editor’s philosophy and method. The footnotes are all differences in the texts of the various manuscripts. Contains the letter to Raleigh, commendatory verses and dedicatory sonnets, and has an appendix with longer critical notes.



And now, unfortunately, I have two anti-recommendations.

The first one is the one published by Canon Press. So far they only have the first three books out, and I’ve only read the first one, Fierce Wars and Faithful Loves, edited by Roy Maynard. This is the updated and annotated edition that I bought when I first wanted to read the Real Deal. The updated spellings are the only thing this edition has going for it. Where Maynard updates the language he sometimes errs, and he frequently gives bad definitions in the margins, so it seems that he doesn’t actually understand the language of Spenser. Worse, his explanatory notes are heavily agenda-driven—he makes it seem like Spenser was an anti-Catholic Puritan. Lewis says that this was not the case. In Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, Lewis says that although Spenser was educated at Cambridge, he never became attached to the two intellectual movements of the day, Puritanism and what we now call the Neo-Classical movement, the “young, fierce, progressive intellectuals, very fashionable and up-to-date,” who were united by their “hatred for everything medieval: for scholastic philosophy, medieval Latin, romance, fairies, and chivalry.” This one probably won’t kill your love of Spenser if you read, but I can’t recommend it since there are so many better options.
This edition is missing the letter to Raleigh and the commendatory verses and sonnets.

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The second one hasn’t been published yet, but it’s received a lot of publicity in my circles. This is the “modern prose rendering” by Rebecca Reynolds. I have read one of the cantos, which Reynolds forwarded me so my son and I could read it. I’m not at liberty to share anything about the text, but I will note that if you’ve read Tolkien’s translation of Beowulf, you’ll have an idea what to expect from this edition. Tolkien first made that translation early in his career as an Old English scholar and revised it continuously for the rest of his life. It was his personal study of the language of the poem, and should be seen as an exercise in linguistics, not as a work of art. That is, Tolkien’s Beowulf  is not a literary translation meant to delight the reader. Rather, it’s a textual and linguistic study of the poem, which is why so many people were disappointed when they finally received their much-anticipated copy of it.

Where Maynard in his Fierce Wars and Faithful Loves seems not to understand the language of Spenser, Reynolds seems not to understand the form of Romance itself, including its use of stock characters and its way of using metaphor to point to transcendent reality. In her “Introduction to Books Five and Six,” while explaining that all of Spenser’s knights fail in their quests to one degree or another, Reynolds says that

the title knights of Book Four would have killed one another, had not their lethal conflict been resolved through a magic potion inaccessible to the average reader. (Spenser has claimed that the Faerie Queene instructs readers how to live virtuously. Where does he expect them to find such a potion?)

This, in a teacher of literature, is inexcusable ignorance of the way magic works in a Romance. A Romance is essentially a long, literary fairy tale, and fairy-tale magic of this sort works in the fairy-tale world the way the grace of God works in our world—you don’t find it; it finds you. She consistently discusses Spenser’s treatment of characters as if they were people living in our world, and not characters in a secondary world, an imaginative world of Spenser’s creation, and specifically characters in a story with a long literary tradition behind it. In the “Introduction to Book One,” she says, “Spenser’s treatment of women sometimes employs the extremes of angelic young ladies and wicked old enchantresses, females typed instead of embodied.” But this is exactly the way the medieval Romance works. It’s not a modern realistic novel.

Reynolds repeatedly makes the biographical fallacy of thinking that understanding the author helps you understand the story. In her “Introduction to Book One,” she writes pages of commentary explaining “Spenser’s questionable treatment of race, religion, gender, and nationality,” saying he glorifies whiteness and objectifies women, and writes extensively on “Spenser’s Anti-Irish Behavior,” among other atrocities. This is the topic of “Elizabeth’s Irish policy” that I mentioned when quoting Lewis at the top of the blog post. In Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, Lewis says, “The many generations who have read and re-read The Faerie Queene with delight paid very little attention to the historical allegory; the modern student, at his first reading, will be well advised to pay it none at all.” Reynolds is taking exactly the opposite approach, pointing out all of Spenser’s supposed flaws, according to very modern (may I even say “woke”?) standards.

Which brings me to the last area of concern that I’ll be addressing here. The major issue with this edition is the same as with Maynard’s: it’s highly agenda-driven. I have read all the introductions that are available on the website, and I encourage you to do a web search and download and read the essays for yourself for more information. The introductions are quite long, so I will include here a longer selection from the “Introduction to Book One” to illustrate this agenda.

Spenser made some grave mistakes as a writer and as an Englishman living in Ireland. Perhaps it could be helpful for you to read about some of his shortcomings and how I handled them before beginning this book. Where I didn’t sterilize Spenser, it was out of a conviction that we need an accurate record of the past to help us make our present and future better; I don’t think we can overcome wrongs by denying they existed. Where I muted him a bit, it was out of a desire to instill respect where there was once hostility….

As a reader, I’ve given myself permission to shout disagreements with Spenser here and there.... I welcome you to both rage at him with me and glean alongside me as we read his tale. May our journey through this and all old stories be indignant and supple at all the right moments.

...

Throughout the text, I couldn’t resist including a few maternal footnotes for young female readers who may be encountering the jolt of objectification in a historic work of literature for the first time. Though I couldn’t address every instance of sexism, I want these intermittent messages to serve as a little hand squeeze for the youth wandering through these stories. Ladies, if you feel angry over how a female is treated in a given scene, I’m likely right there with you. Let’s stare unflinchingly into the hard realities that our foremothers have faced. Let’s learn from the past.


In summary, Reynolds claims to love The Faerie Queene. She says she hopes that “this rendering will help both younger students and curious adults with busy lives who simply don’t have the time or training to untangle four-hundred-year-old language.” She says that she hopes people will read her prose rendering and then go on to read an edition such as Hamilton’s. But it seems to me that Reynolds’ approach will have the opposite of the intended effect.

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To read other things I’ve written about The Faerie Queene over the years, please click the Faerie Queene tag. Happy reading!
 

Wednesday, February 22, 2023

Strategies for reading Spenser's Faerie Queene

In my last post I described how I prepared to read aloud Spenser’s Faerie Queene to my children. It took some time, but it didn’t cost me any money at all, as the high quality, literary retellings for children that I used were written over a century ago and are available for free on the internet.

In this post, I’ll describe how I read the whole thing aloud over the course of two years. It took us that long partly because since we’d never read the longer children’s versions before, we were reading them before reading each book of Spenser. Subsequent readings have taken us a little over a year, reading two or three cantos a week during our school year.  

But before that I want to mention briefly how I first tried and failed to read The Faerie Queene so that you can avoid those pitfalls.

When I first started trying to read FQ, the only prior knowledge of the story I had was that “Saint George and the Dragon” was a part of it. I was intimidated by the poem, so I got an edition of Book I that had modernized spellings, and some modernized words, and included lots of footnotes and sidebars that were meant to be helpful. The biggest mistake I made was stopping to read all the footnotes and sidebars. This interrupted the flow of the story and took so much time that each time I started reading it I only made it through a few stanzas before I was too tired to carry on. By doing it this way, I lost the flow of the story so badly that I could hardly remember from one day to the next what I had read before.

Occasionally the beauty of the language caught my attention, but mostly it was unpleasant work. I don’t remember how long I struggled though it like this before I finally quit, thinking I just wasn’t capable of understanding it.

It was after that failure that I read what C.S. Lewis said about the story in various places. He said that up until the early 20th century, children’s versions of the story were pretty common, and he made it sound like something a regular person could read with pleasure—like it didn’t require any special training or knowledge, so I started over with my children, as I described last time, reading children’s versions.

This time, when it was time to read Spenser Himself, instead of reading from my modernized and annotated version, I read aloud from the fat Penguin book. This edition has a little commentary and plenty of notes explaining unfamiliar words, but they’re all located in the back of the book instead of cluttering up the pages of the text.

 

The method

Two or three times a week, during our Morning Time, I’d read aloud an entire canto, pausing occasionally to let the children narrate. Reading this much at one go is essential to the experience. Spenser’s poetry isn’t the kind where you ought to linger over individual lines or words, as you might do with Shakespeare or Donne. It is poetry, written with a very exacting meter and rhyme scheme, but the words aren’t the point—the images and the mood are. To enter this story, we must not only “surrender ourselves with childlike attention to the mood of the story,” but we must read it like Spenser’s original audience, “an audience who have settled down to hear a long story and do not much want to savour each line as a separate work of art.”

 

Preparation

The one thing I did in the way of preparation was to look over the commentary and explanatory notes in the back of the book the night before I planned to read the canto to my children. If there were any unfamiliar words, I’d make a brief entry in the margin of the text, so that I would know what the words of the text meant. In this way I could read the whole line with understanding.

Sometimes there were particular words or names or literary allusions that were going to come up in the canto that I felt my kids needed to be acquainted with before they met them in the story. In this case I’d briefly say something before we started the canto.

On very rare occasions, while I was reading I substituted the translation for the original word. I did this when the original word might cause misunderstanding, but wasn’t the kind of word I wanted to spend any teaching time on.

 

Demonstration

Since all of this is easier done than said (heh) I’m going to share a recording of myself reading the first three stanzas of Book I, Canto 1. This way I’ll be able to show you several different things. Here’s the text, with my own marginal notes added (based on the notes from the back of my Penguin edition.

 


The first thing you’ll notice from this image is the crazy spellings, and not just words like “mightie” and “deepe.” Those are easy enough to figure out. The hard ones are words like siluer/silver, euer/ever, Vpon/Upon, and iolly/jolly. You’ll get used to it in time, I promise! The U/V swap happens often enough that you’ll probably have no trouble within just a few stanzas. The I/J swap takes longer to get the hang of because it doesn’t happen as often. It really is a learning curve, but stick with it! Before too long you’ll feel like you’re mastering a new language (and really, you are—Early Modern English isn’t quite the same thing as Present Day English).

 

Now you’ll notice that I’m pronouncing the words in my everyday read-aloud voice, not trying to recreate Elizabethan English or even stick to Spenser’s rhyme scheme. As I said, the poem is written according to a very strict meter and rhyme scheme, and those things are beautiful in themselves, but they aren’t the point of The Faerie Queene. The point is the story itself. I’m reading in a way that’s natural to the setting—reading aloud to my children so that they can experience the story.

 

And here’s a slightly different example from Book IV, Canto 1.


In this one, when I get to the word “sterve,” which is the word “starve,” I might go ahead and substitute “die” because the point is that the character is thriving off of her victims’ deaths, not their hunger. The meaning of the word has changed enough in the last few centuries, and this is an important enough aspect of the story, that I feel the change could be justified. Use your own judgement.

 

That’s it!  

  • Do a little prep work before you read aloud. 
  • Plan to read the entire canto in one sitting. 
  • Pause every once in a while to let the kids narrate. You’ll be surprised how much they’ve retained from reading the children’s versions.